The Horizon Will be Defeated
by Arya Cousland
Summary: Arianna Cousland is wrapped up in her own world after the deaths of her family but when she joins the Grey Wardens and meets her fellow members her outlook on life changes. Ali/C main T/Z Amell/C multiple origins rating subject to change
1. Chapter 1

~*~*~ This fic is a little of me going crazy because I can't get Dragon Age Origins out of my head and that includes Alistair…especially Alistair. So I have come up with an idea to combine the different origins into one, and I know it's been done but the idea wouldn't leave me alone sooo I had to get it on paper (so to speak). This is a Cousland/Alistair, Tabris/Zevran, Amell/Cullen, and well I haven't decided if I am going to bring in the others yet but yeah. C/A is the main pairing though. Enjoy the result of my insanity

Chapter 1 : Her Diamonds

The blood; little blots of crimson red spread around her hands and forearms…She couldn't physically see the stains but she knew that they were there, just like she knew that the screams of the dying would never be erased from her memory. They were imprinted into her skin, her mind. The sounds reverberated throughout her ear drums in an endless song of death and sorrow.

She had killed people, and even if those same people deserved what she dealt them, she couldn't get over the fact that it _had_ happened. She _had_ been the one to plunge her blade through the throat of her victim, she _had _been the one to slice through armor to get to the weak flesh beneath and she _had_ been the one to relish that taking of a life for the barest of a second but it had been long enough to make her feel sick to her already rolling insides.

Scrubbing furiously at her hands again, the woman blinked back tears from eyes as gray as metal steel. Her hands were rubbed raw; some of the softer skin bleeding and mixing in with the imaginary blood of those that she had taken lives from. A small tear escaped from her shut eyes and landed with a light plunk upon her thumb and as she looked down at the offending salt water, her hands trembled with the force of the sobs racking the thin frame.

These same hands had been clutching the bloody arm of her father, as she watched his life blood flow from his body and onto the cobbled floor around her boots.

"Child?"

She stopped, gulping huge breaths of air into her shuddering lungs and turned to glance behind her at the source of the questioning, soft voice. The Grey Warden stood, powerful forearms crossed in a non-threatening manner and darkly bearded face, a picture of sympathy and understanding.

Arianna Cousland set her mouth into a firm expression and nodded in answer to his unvoiced question.

"Then, if I may ask…why are you still trying to wash your hands?"

His gruff voice startled her into realizing that, yes, for all her bravado and showy faces, her body and mind were betraying her. She forcefully lifted her stinging hands out from the stream she was kneeling next to and held them out in front of her, staring at the drips that fell onto the ground: blood combining with water and soil. She remained silent, eyes fixed in horrid fascination as the drops fell. When she spoke, her normally lively voice was subdued and quiet, an echo of its formal shell. "Does it stop? The images…"

Duncan lifted his own hand to gaze down at it in remembrance and shook his head, not having the voice suited to respond to her question, but not wanting it to go unanswered either.

Arya turned her silver eyes up to study his cheerless dark brown and grimaced. "Those people…I took their lives. Didn't even ask, just took it. How is that fair?"

Duncan gazed at the small pool of water the drippings from her hands were making beneath where she held them out and scowled. "They would have taken yours Arya, just like they took your father's. You didn't ask for…your family to be betrayed like that but it happened and to those left behind…it hurts more than anything in your entire life."

"Their eyes…"

Duncan surged forward and pulled her bloodied hands into his own, roughened ones, ignoring the whimper the youngest Cousland uttered at the rough treatment. "Arya, listen to me."

Her eyes traveled back to his stern face and she couldn't help but wince at the strict tone his voice had taken…a tone which reminded her too closely of her late father's. "Yes?"

"I went to your castle not looking for more recruits…I was looking for you."

At that Arya felt surprise through her numbness and blinked. Did she hear right? He went to Highever specifically for her… "Why?"

His mouth quirked upwards a tad at her curious question but he remained serious. "Your skill with blades far surpassed any in the area, you have the mind of a brilliant tactician and you're quick on your feet when it comes to tough situations. Everything a good Grey Warden is supposed to be but honestly…that wasn't what drew my attention to you in the first place."

She had calmed downed from her initial panic attack to realize exactly what he was doing right now and she couldn't help a small smile to light her face, if not her eyes. Duncan was distracting her mind, not letting it travel to what had happened earlier. Nonetheless she was interested to find out his reasons for choosing her.

"Your heart, Arya."

He slowly let go of her hands and instead placed them on her shoulders, squeezing life back into her body and ignoring the gaze of utter confusion on her face.

"It's not every day that you hear about a small nobleman's child giving up her place at the dinner table for an elf servant, or a young adult female choosing to pass on the intricacies of the loom and instead take up arms for the sole purpose of defending her teddy bears from the evil clutches of her older brother…or the choice to take the runt of the mabari litter so that it wouldn't drown and then raising it into a fiercely loyal and strong companion." Duncan stopped speaking for a moment and brushed a stray tear as it made its way from her eye to the corner of her cheek. "Arya, I can find a million soldiers who can wield a blade and chop down any dark spawn in their path, but I can only find one young woman with a solid head on her shoulders and a heart to match. The simple fact that you are crying right now makes the deaths of those men mean something, and even if they had nothing but ill feelings towards you…well _you _feel sorry for cutting their lives short. That's why I chose you. That's why the Grey Warden's need you."

She had stopped shaking and though tears still ran down her face, they weren't tears of shame or guilt but of sadness so great that she was only just starting to understand its depths. Everything he had brought up in his reasons was everything her father used to tell her and more.

"Thank you." It was whispered softly but she knew he heard her because his hands gave her another brief squeeze before he dropped them to a small pack near his feet and began rummaging in its contents, bringing out a white wrapped bundle of linen. He nodded at her hands and she smiled gratefully, shifting them so that he could easily wrap them in the clean cloth and watched as he tied a small knot on each side.

"There. Now are you ready to continue?"

Arya stopped short of fiddling with her new bandages and she looked up and then past him at the smoke filled home she had just fled. She still knew that she hadn't forgiven herself for those deaths, and that of her family but she also knew that she wasn't the one to blame. Howe would pay for his crimes…she would make sure of it.

Shoulder length brown hair bounced as she flicked her head back to Duncan and nodded sharply.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ostagar wasn't what she was expecting at all.

Not that she could say otherwise anyways since she hadn't actually seen it in its glory days from her father's tales. But she had expected something...a little grander and especially not ruins.

Her eyes kept shifting from the huge columns on either side of the pathway to the lights dotting the horizon from the numerous amounts of tents set up outside of the main camp. The place definitely didn't look the part of where a history changing battle would soon take place.

She was sitting near the small tent that was hers in the Grey Warden camp, polishing the cured leather armor she had just bargained for. It was a lucky thing that she had thought to pick up a small bag of coins from her chest before her and Duncan had left Highever: a precaution her father had drilled into both Fergus's and her own head. Arya had been able to barter her way through the sales of a full set of armor for herself and a spiked collar for Anon, her dog and still be able to keep the change left over for other essentials she would likely need to buy for whatever it was that Duncan wanted her to do.

Well, after she found this…Alistair.

Arya flipped her hair over her shoulder and admired the newly shined plate of metal placed over the toe of the boots. It would be ready for wearing when she needed it.

Quickly placing the bundle of metal and leather into her tent and closing the flap, she sat up from her sitting position and stretched her aching limbs. The light cloth shirt, and pants she had borrowed from Duncan when she had walked into the ruined city stretched as she did, the cloth molding to her thin frame and exposing a small patch of skin near her neck. The clothes didn't exactly fit since her and Duncan happened to be of two different sizes but they worked as a competent replacement of the ruined leather armor she had worn during the…attack. She had disposed of it their first night away from the castle and burned what she could; the memories brought from the sight of the dried, encrusted blood and jagged cuts had been too much of a reminder.

With the finishing of her armor, Arya glanced around at the growing darkness and groaned in annoyance. She didn't exactly know where this Alistair was and based on the crappy instructions the smith had given her, neither did anyone else. Or at least they thought they knew but weren't exactly sure. And now it was getting late….

_Great._

_

Arya didn't especially like mages.

No, that was wrong; she didn't have much experience with mages since they had never been a part of her father's court. Sure she had known a young girl once when she was around 6. They had been playing and suddenly a small flower near Arya had burst into flames, startling both girls and making them run back to their respective parents. It hadn't been long after, that the young Cousland had seen a Templar come by and escort the little girl to the Tower. She hadn't heard from the girl nor had she dealt with anyone close to being a mage since.

The one standing in front of her talking to the person she was sent to find was a rather uptight one.

That or Alistair was really pissing him off.

The man in question was tall, dark blonde hair cropped short and hands calloused from a life of holding swords. Which couldn't have been that long since he looked to be about her age if not a little older. And that wasn't saying much since she was only three and twenty.

"You there! I certainly hope you don't associate with this fool of a Warden. Might lose some brain cells in the process."

The mage brought her musings to a halt and she looked over at the arguing pair in confusion, but neither seemed to pay much attention to her so she stood still, crossing her arms over her chest and waiting for both to be finished their little spat.

"And here I was, thinking we were getting along so well…I was even going to name my kid after you. The grumpy one!" The man, Alistair, had a bright smirk on his face as he watched the mage walk away from him in a huff and Arya watched as his brown eyes sought out whomever the mage had been referring to earlier.

Arya shifted on her feet feeling the weight of this Warden's gaze on her, most likely assessing her reasons for being in front of him. She looked up quickly and caught the slight blush on the man's cheeks before he smiled brilliantly at her and gestured to the back of the mage walking away.

"You know, one good thing about the blight is how it brings people together."

She lifted an eyebrow in amusement but didn't comment on his witty remark and instead waited for him to ask why she was here.

"So? Something I did wrong? Usually I don't get beautiful women sent to me unless I did something horribly wrong."

"Does that happen often?"

He smiled at the sarcastic reply and she couldn't help but focus her attention on his pale lips for the barest of a heartbeat. "Not as often as I would have liked. What can I do for you?"

"Duncan-"

His mouth opened in a 'o' of understanding and he broke through her explanation with one of his own. "So you are the new recruit everyone's been talking about." His hand gestured for her to follow him and they began walking away from the circle of ruins she had found him in and back to where Duncan's tent was.

Arya glanced up at him, past her shoulder and grimaced. "Do I really want to know what was being said?"

"Well…if rumors were true, then you are some kind of giant with bloodied hands and a sinister look in your eyes…come to save everyone from the coming battle by standing in the front lines and scaring dark spawn away with your infamous blade."

She sighed and pulled at the tucked in hem of her borrowed shirt. "Sorry to disappoint."

Alistair looked down at her and smiled good-naturedly, nudging her arm with his elbow to get her attention. "I have to say I kind of like the real version over the fantasy one. Not so intimidating…though I can see that the bloodied hands is somewhat true."

Though it wasn't voiced as a question she heard the slight raise in his baritone and she looked down at her linen wrapped hands, remembering exactly why they were roughed up. She didn't want to answer his question so she stayed silent and hoped that he would drop the line of thought.

Alistair seemed to take the hint, merely frowning instead of voicing the question. They continued in silence a few feet in front of them until he grinned again and gestured to the large dog standing by the fire, his fierce glowing yellow eyes following their movements with an intensity that would have made anyone flinch. "Someone must have let one of the Mabari loose…"

Arya turned her attention to the dog and grimaced when she realized that, no, it wasn't just any mabari but it was Anon and he didn't look all that happy with her and especially with the man walking beside her. The dog had always been over protective of Arya when they were little, never letting anyone near her unless it was absolutely necessary; it wasn't until later that the Cousland had been able to train the streak out of him…but he still remained overly territorial when it came to men and her. Another reason to add to her mother's list of "Why My Daughter Isn't Married Yet."

At the mention of her mother, Arya frowned and brushed her hand briefly through her hair, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the man walking beside her.

"Not comfortable around dogs?"

She turned her silver eyes back to his face and shot him a confused glance. "What?"

He reddened slightly but nodded his head back to the growling mabari. "You seem a little…on edge. I was wondering if it was because of the dog."

Her mouth widened into a small, sad smile and she shook her head. "No."

She didn't say anything else; just broke away from his side and walked swiftly to where the dog now sat, switching between growling and wagging his tail. Arya stopped in front of him and knelt down so that she was eye level with his snout and smiled at him tenderly. "You really need to stop doing that Anon. I'm going to be a Grey Warden…there will most likely be many men around me at a time, brothers and such."

At this the dog let out a low whine and turned his face to graze his wet nose against her cheek in an affectionate nuzzle.

"I know…but things are going to be different now. You have to behave."

Alistair had walked up behind her and was eying the two of them with curiosity and veiled wonder. He obviously didn't realize that Anon belonged to her. "So I take it you two know each other…"

"Alistair. Good Arya found you."

Arya continued to smooth her hand over the top of Anon's fluffy head, but she turned her eyes to watch the older Grey Warden walk up beside Alistair and pat his shoulder, startling the younger man. It was the softness of Duncan's footsteps that made Arya wonder if he had some rogue training behind him.

"Ah, what? Yes…in the middle of a conversation with a particular nasty mage…he didn't seem to mind the interruption but I bow to the woman's impeccable timing. I could only take so much of 'Tell the Mother this' and 'filthy templar that'." Alistair's hands had made vague cutting motions in the air and she watched as Duncan let out a small puff of amusement and resignation.

"You must stop riling them up Alistair…we need their help for the upcoming battle in a month."

Arya turned back to look in the yellow eyes of her pup and she laughed softly at the darting looks the other two men received. The sound of her quiet laughter brought Duncan out of his conversation with Alistair and back onto the young woman crouched in front of him. "So, Lady how are you adjusting to life here?"

She flinched at his use of her title but stood up and gave him another of her small smiles…the ones that didn't quite make it to her eyes. "Seeing as I've only been here for a few hours, I'd have to say pretty well considering the circumstances."

Duncan nodded and watched her face carefully for the tell tale signs that she was lying; finding them easily. But he didn't mention it, understanding she didn't want the conversation to take that route. Instead his eyes hardened briefly and motioned for her to stand. "I know this is going to be rather sudden but we must get this finished before you can truly turn on the path of becoming a Grey Warden."

Arya shifted, letting her hands drift over the soft fur of Anon's ears and straightened her shoulders. "Well I would be bluffing if I said I was ready for whatever this is…but I guess it can't be any worse than what has already happened. What do you need me to do?"

Alistair, she could see him out of the corner of her eyes, shifted his head from one to the other not really knowing what either of them were talking about and wondering at what Arya had been referring to. She didn't feel the need to debrief him and neither did Duncan since he went on speaking in measured tones describing a ritual she would need to perform to become a fully fledged Warden. It sounded dangerous to Arya but not by much and even if there was a chance of death…well she would get to see her parents all that much sooner. Though, she knew that if she told Duncan that, he probably wouldn't let her go through with the joining; seeing it as a way for Arya to escape.

Duncan's face held resolve and something else, but she couldn't quite figure it out so she let it pass. "Are you ready?"

She nodded without hesitation, a brief flicker of sadness was seen through her grey eyes…almost like a fog had been filtered through but she steeled herself quickly in case either man noticed and followed them to the small clearing where she had first met Alistair.

The ritual was fairly to the point, and Arya had easily memorized the Warden motto as Duncan had instructed and listened to the soft lull of Alistair's voice as he recited the necessary words that marked the beginning of the ceremony. Her hands only trembled faintly when Duncan handed her the large goblet and the metal was reflected in her gaze as she stared into the blood red depths, eerily reminded of the scene by the river.

Her eyes drifted to meet Alistair's amber and she gave him a small nod; in farewell or greeting, she wasn't sure. But he seemed to understand because he nodded back, a steely expression on his face as he calmly watched as she raised the cup to her lips and drank.

Arya didn't feel anything except disgust as the liquid burned its way down her throat, a mixture of blood and a thicker wine; the taste merging to create something thick and sharp tasting. The first spasm clutched at her stomach as she felt the blood rest itself on the bottom of her empty stomach and she would have dropped the cup if it hadn't been for Duncan's swift save. Another sharp pain was felt near her chest and she raised her now empty hands to clutch desperately at her side, doubling over in agony. She closed her eyes tightly, vaguely aware of Alistair's arm going around her shoulders and holding her upright, as the pain finally centered itself in her heart and she let out a small groan of pain and her world tipped as she lost consciousness, hearing Duncan's startled cry in her ears.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: wowow I actually do have a lot of this story completed but I have honestly been so busy that I haven't been paying enough attention to this as i should have. Graduated college! Anyways next update will be soooo much sooner than this. I promise!

a/n 2: short I know but i had to introduce Solona before I go back to my main character, Ari

Chapter 2

Innocent

Solona squinted amusedly at the frowning man, practically stalking, next to her. His footsteps heavy as they hit the dirt path beneath them and each step was punctuated by a barely heard huff of frustration. Her own footsteps were soft and delicate, the padding of her kid leather boots cushioning her steps against the rough stones.

She had kept a straight face for most of the way but her excitement and enthusiasm were meant to be shared…at least according to her anyways. Templars didn't often express many emotions and Solona was determined to get this particular one to at least show more than rigid annoyance.

After all they were going to be seeing an awful lot of each other now.

She snuck another glance at him and covered her mouth to repress a giggle as his heavy feet scuffled on a large stone stuck in the middle of the path. To turn her attention away from the extremely aggravated (or so she guessed…she couldn't actually tell) Templar and raised her eyes up to the bright blue of the sky and breathed in deeply.

The air outside of the tower was…different from the stifling dust in the corridors of the Tower. It smelled faintly of wet dog and leaves. Though she couldn't actually be sure of that either since she had never smelled a dog before, let alone a wet one and she only knew what leaves were from the small terrace the Senior Healers had on their floor. But the underlining smell of the fresh air was…freedom!

She was finally free from the shackles of that tower and the fact that Cullen was forced to accompany her as a fellow grey warden recruit (Gregoir's idea) did nothing to dampen her refreshed spirits.

Her hand brushed against a particular tall piece of grass on her left and snickered to herself hearing another huff from beside her.

"What is so funny, Mage?"

The gruff voice startled her slightly since she hadn't exactly expected him to speak to her. Cullen hadn't spoken to her since she had…Solona tilted her head to the side contemplating the exact word that would describe her impromptu chat with the older Templar. _Ah, yes…_

Proposition.

Yes, since she had propositioned him outside Irving's office. His stuttered response had been amusing and enlightening at the same time. She hadn't believed any of the rumors of his _crush _and the only reason she had approached him at all was because she felt that her day couldn't have gotten any better than it already had. She was an official enchanter now and speaking to a Templar had seemed less daunting then that it had ever been.

She turned her thoughts back to the present and shot him a veiled look of mischief. She _thought _she saw a bit of red coloring his cheeks at her glance but dismissed the notion; the one and only time she had ever seen him blush had been the exact moment she offered to get to _know _him and then it had given way into quick anger. She wasn't exactly tempted to find out what would happen if she teased him again.

That didn't mean she was going to erase her good mood just because he was being a sour puss.

Solona paused in her steps, made sure he had stopped to look back at her, and twirled her arms above her head. She closed her eyes and let the motion spin her robes around her thin form and then skidded to a stop, smiling brilliantly at the sky. Her lips opened and she let out a loud peal of laughter at the new expression of incredulity on Cullen's face.

_Oh this was going to be so much fun to bring him out of his disciplined shell. _

"I have never been under the sky for this long since…well EVER!" She giggled again and resumed her previous pace, leaving him to catch up and close his mouth. "I feel like I have all this energy wanting to burst out of me and I don't have anything to do with it."

Cullen's grumble about "Mad, girly mages" was ignored in favor of a small white flower growing on the side of the road. Solona's shriek of recognition set the young Templar on edge and he automatically gripped the great sword strapped to his back.

"I have read about these but I haven't actually seen one before!" Her hands traced the soft petals and touched the smooth pink center. "Their called Andraste's Grace. Rare everywhere but in Ferelden. The Orlesians get them shipped into their court because of their beauty." Solona paused and turned to stare at Cullen. "It's sad when someone who was born and raised in Ferelden has never seen one of the distinct features it is known for."

Cullen glares and straightens from his shrugged position, his hand leaving the solid comfort of the hilt. He studies her and Solona wonders if he is going to say something and when he opens his mouth to do so she breaths out in disappointment. "Mages are where they belong; they do not need to know anything other than the tower."

Brown eyes glare at him from beneath shockingly bright red hair as she straightens up from her crouch, a finger lingering on the flower for the barest of a second. Her whisper is soft but she is sure Cullen hears her because his eyes bore into the back of her head as she walks further ahead of the path than he. "I wasn't just talking about the mages."

Her mood officially ruined, Solona pulled her robes tighter around her and stared straight ahead. They were traveling, slowly, to the war camp at Ostagar where Duncan had told them to meet. It had taken at least a week for Irving and Gregoir to officially turn her and Cullen over to the grey wardens and it was mainly Gregoir's reluctance to let a mage he was convinced was a blood mage away from his watchful eyes. Duncan had been livid when the Knight Commander had pushed him to conscript Cullen along with her and the only reason, she suspected, he agreed was because further angering both Irving and Gregoir would make his job harder in the first place.

Duncan hadn't stayed long in the tower after he got what he came for; leaving quickly for Highever and Castle Cousland in the north. He had made Solona promise to leave without him when she was able to, something Gregoir didn't agree with but couldn't argue. Cullen had slowed her down with his constant gloominess but it didn't stop the young mage from enjoying the freedom she felt she had earned.

Ostagar was only a two days walk from here and she was determined to get there with as happy a face as she was able to, her spirits a hopeful match.


End file.
